I knew full well that some of my dear friends were in the Union Army. When they commenced to bring the Prisoners South, I cannot tell you how anxious I was. Whenever I knew there were Prisoners to be brought through Atlanta, I would go down to the Station and watch with bated breath, as they filed past scanning them closely, expecting to see maybe a dear Brothers face among those grave still faces. How full of pity our hearts were for them. But we were watched as closely as they were and we dared not give a word hardly a look of sympathy. Once a friend from Macon came up to Atlanta and called upon us. He was acquainted with my father and eldest Brother. After greeting us he turned to me and said, "Did you know your Brother Fred was a prisoner in Macon?" I turned quiet at the question. When he hastened to tell me it was not my dear Brother, but a stranger bearing the same name. He saw the name in the list of prisoners, went to the Prison expecting to find it was him. One dear Brother had died in the Union Army and was lying in his grave in Virginia two years before I heard the sad tidings.
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